


YOUR EGO

by insomnomnomia



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomnomnomia/pseuds/insomnomnomia
Summary: You’re only edging him on when the words fall from your lips, though, as he leans over you, predatorily. 'Show off.' You think when he curls his tongue over his teeth.
Relationships: Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	YOUR EGO

At some point within the short, though relatively drawn out period of time you had applied and worked under _Joey Drew St._ , you had formed some sort of awkward relationship with the lead role. The longer you held your ground, the further he felt inclined to push you back, until eventually your walls came crumbling down around the both of you. It was rocky; what, with you withholding the very information he had come so far to seek out, the _truth_. You knew he knew you knew. The experience, the rush of fear, the exhilaration you felt when he neared, it was mutual, all of it. Albeit fundamentally corrupt, the studio had held its promise for you high above your head, just out of reach. So now, coincidentally, you happened to have fallen back on the very thing you sought out, originally. 

“ ** _Something happened.”_ **

“What makes you say that?” 

**_“You’re scared. I can tell.”_ **

“I’m not.”

You catch him rolling his eyes back, foot tapping against the weakened wooden planks you two stood on. He doesn’t believe you. You stop working, pausing to step back and admire the art that lay before you. You flatten it against the table with your calloused fingers, the once prominent wrinkles that plagued your piece vanishing under your touch. 

**_“It’s me.”_ **He whispers, his smile a firm line against his flat face. You watch him step in to admire the piece, bow-tie curling against his cheek when he leans forward to inspect it further. 

“It’s always you. Kind of my job?” You respond, measly. He turns to you, a grin flying up one cheek, as he gestures to the paper lying before him. 

**_“_** **This** **_is in the job description?”_** You lean forward, curious as to what he’s referencing when a warm heat spreads across your pale cheeks. You see where you had previously sketched out a tutu, a rather useless layer, against his frame. You stumble over your words, tongue caught in your throat when you try to explain. **_“It’s cute.”_ **You can tell he’s biting back a laugh when he chews at his cheek. You wave him away, hurrying to hang the paper, pinning it to your board with a tack. Content with your handiwork, you lean back in your chair, and turn to Bendy who’s now busied himself with his comically large gloves that grew over his wrist. He looks up at you, arm raised in front of him, canines peeking from under his top lip. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, crossing your legs in your seat. He hums, eyes slipping down to watch your joints bend. You two sit there for a few moments, in silence as you wait patiently for an answer. 

**_“What do you mean?”_ **

You give him a look before leaning forward and taking his hand in yours, fingers brushing over where his gloves ended. Slowly, sensually, even, you slide your fingers under his glove, trailing your hand up his until you’re intertwined. You tap your pointer against his, curving over the claw-like nail that’s growing from under his skin. 

“You’re changing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” You say, ignoring the shit-eating grin he’s got with you feeling him up. 

**_“Handsy, aren’t we?”_ **He jokes, holding your hand against his. He pulls you in by your waist with his free hand, fingers curling around where your ass began. 

“That was an awful pun.” You breathe against him. Stuck in between him and your desk, you squirm in an attempt to escape his grasp but the grip he holds on you is firm. The hands you’ve trapped within his single glove are clammy and you can feel the sweat beneath your palm as he pushes you up against the desk. His hand falls from your ass, moving up to your jaw, dancing daintily along your throat as you leaned back and away from his touch. You swallow when you feel his fingers wrapping around your neck. 

**_“Tell me.”_ ** Confused, you’re taken aback at his demand. You frown. All color that once was drains from your face in an instant, as you see him revel in the position he’s trapped you in. He smiles, fingers tapping lightly against your throat, knowing fully well how you’re feeling at this very moment. 

“Tell you what?” You play dumb. You’re only edging him on when the words fall from your lips, though, as he leans over you, predatorily. _Show off._ You think when he curls his tongue over his teeth, as you’re nose to nose. Well, figuratively, at least. You shift from beneath him, uncomfortable with the fact that he’s forced you up against this desk, knee stuck in between your thighs, skirt hiked up your waist. 

**_“Fine. Be that way."_ ** He spat, throwing you to the ground with ease. You cough against the floor, back sore from the abuse you were just put through. You gasp when your eyes turn up to see Bendy standing before you, his foot coming down to press your cheek into the wooden planks. You groan against the splinters. **_“What’s happening to me?_ ** **Why** **_am I changing?”_ **

“I don’t know!”

You feel your jaw slack under the pressure. 

**_“You’re going to tell me. I won’t waste any more time.”_ **

“Please! You don’t understand. I can’t — I can’t just _tell_ you!” 

**_“Oh?”_ ** You sigh when he lifts his heel from your chin ever so slightly, allowing you room to breathe. **_“And why is that?”_ **

“It’s...complicated.” 

You’re startled momentarily when he falls to your vantage point, eyes bright in your face as you two pant through each other. You heart sinks in your chest, when he moves. 

“Bendy?” You whisper, peeling an arm from the floor and reaching for a horn. “Are you—“ Your eyes are wide when you see the ink spill from his horns, and into his eyes, torso stretching to unimaginable lengths as he’s bent over you. You lean away from him, precariously. You knew something wasn’t right with this company when you were made aware of the ink machine’s existence entirely. You should’ve left when you had the chance. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> happy new year!


End file.
